In the Kingdom of Bryston, only the uptight zealots of the Curse Cult frowned upon a little premarital fun. So, a secluded grove like this was a popular spot for couples to, well, you know... engage in "field battles".

The crime scene was nestled just inside the woods, not far from a stone bench that probably saw more action than a brothel's mattress.

The bodies were discovered by another pair of early-morning lovebirds, who probably wished they'd slept in. Cops were already on the scene, some poking around the area, others shooing away the rubbernecking students, and the rest setting up a perimeter with white tape.

Huh, is that...?

Julian Thorne squinted, spotting a familiar figure near the officers. It was one of the Sun Wardens who'd been trailing Keene Vester last night, the one who peeled off when they hopped in the carriage.

He was a young guy with dark hair, sporting a deerstalker hat and a face that could get lost in a crowd. The only reason Julian remembered him was because he looked eerily similar to his old friend, Lee Stone.

Seriously, the resemblance was uncanny!

The guy was currently crouched down, his eyebrow furrowed in concentration. Julian decided against greeting him. He wrinkled his nose instead.

Even from this distance, the stench of blood was overpowering.

Freud was right; lust really did make people lose their minds. Who in their right mind would come here for a morning quickie after this? Couldn't they get their rocks off in their dorms?

Thanks to last night's snowfall, Julian could clearly make out a dark, frozen pool of blood on the snow, along with a pile of what looked like...colorful confetti, half-buried in the snow. The scene was still fresh, a gruesome tableau that made him want to look away.

Among the onlookers, Julian spotted his mentor, the esteemed Professor Wesley, standing with a few other faculty members who were stuck on campus. They all wore grim expressions.

Compared to the somber professors, the students were much more animated. There wasn't much crying going on. Instead, a lively discussion filled the air, suggesting the deceased wasn't exactly winning any popularity contests.

After eavesdropping for a bit, Julian gathered a few key pieces of intel:

First, the victim's name was Sharon, a sophomore alchemy student at Vickers University, technically Julian's junior. Apparently, she was a spiteful, materialistic snob, and not well-liked, even by her roommates. But she was a diligent student.

Second, the cause of death was indeed being gutted. The two lovebirds, who were currently losing their breakfast nearby, could attest to that. The pile of festive-looking stuff on the snow also painted a pretty clear picture. Her organs were ripped out.

Just then, the crowd parted as two officers emerged, carrying a corpse covered with a white sheet. They loaded it onto a carriage.

Julian rubbed his chin, lost in thought.

Murder by gutting... that sounded like the handiwork of those lunatics from the Society of Vital Alchemy.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

Despite the noble-sounding name, the Society of Vital Alchemy was as evil as they came. They believed that life could be synthesized, and that with the right formula, humans could play God and create anything.

This was the exact opposite of the fundamental principle of alchemy: equivalent exchange.

In the game "Apocalypse," they were responsible for quite a few atrocities.

The dark-haired Sun Warden emerged with a few other officers. His eyes lit up when he saw Julian. He flashed his badge and approached, "Good morning, Mr. Stilwell. My name is Sherlock Moriarty. Mr. Keene Vester sent me to find you. If you don't mind, shall we have a chat over there?"

Sherlock Moriarty? Holy crap, it's a Sherlock Holmes and Professor Moriarty mashup...

As Sherlock walked over, Julian felt several pairs of eyes on him, probably pegging him as a suspect. He sighed inwardly and nodded, "I'd be happy to. We actually met yesterday."

Sherlock smiled, "You have an excellent memory. I was standing fourth from the left of Mr. Keene Vester."

It's not my memory, it's your Lee Stone face... Julian thought silently.

They moved to a more secluded spot, and Sherlock stopped, looking at Julian intently. "Mr. Stilwell, do you have any thoughts on this case?"

"Nope, wasn't me," Julian said, feigning ignorance.

"I know it wasn't you, but my eyes tell me you have something on your mind. Don't worry, your secret's safe with me," Sherlock said, his gaze unwavering.

"I really don't. But if I had to say something..." Julian looked at Sherlock's expectant face, thought for a moment, and said hesitantly, "Maybe you should change your hairstyle? It doesn't really suit you."

They stared at each other for a moment before Sherlock finally shrugged, giving up. "Noted. Alright, let's get down to business. Mr. Keene Vester sent me to deliver something to you as a token of his gratitude, and also to discuss a potential business deal."

Sherlock pulled out an intricately designed gold card and handed it to Julian. "This is a VIP card for House Vester. It grants you VIP access to the Blaiston Alchemy Association and a 20% discount at all House Vester-owned businesses."

Julian accepted the card without hesitation. "I accept. Please thank Mr. Keene Vester for me. So, what's this business deal you mentioned?"

What a coincidence. The reward was exactly the same as the quest reward.

Julian almost suspected that the game panel had planned this all along.

Sherlock smiled and leaned in closer. "Mr. Stilwell, or rather, the organization you represent, seems to have some high-quality firearms in your possession?"

Sherlock was carefully observing Julian's expression as he spoke. His profession had honed his observational skills, and he could immediately tell if Julian was lying.

However, Julian simply nodded, and with a flick of his wrist, a revolver materialized in his hand, spinning playfully. "We do, but the quantity is limited. Make me an offer."

Sherlock was taken aback by Julian's straightforwardness.

"I do have some firearms, but not many. If you want them, you'll have to pay up."

Sherlock hesitated for a moment. Currently, the market price for a handgun in the Kingdom of Bryston was around 10 Victors. However, the revolvers Julian possessed were superior in both firepower and performance by at least 30%. Although the world was still dominated by the supernatural, firearms definitely had their place.

"15 Victors for handguns, 18 for rifles."

Sherlock offered a price, already prepared to take a small loss. As long as the price wasn't outrageous, he was willing to accept.

"Deal."

"Firearms are just firearms, after all. The Sun Wardens have a limited budget, so we can't offer too much... Wait, did you just agree?"

Sherlock was stunned.

Julian pulled out another gun and handed both to Sherlock with a smile. "I am a citizen of the Kingdom of Bryston, after all. I only have one rifle at the moment, which I need to keep for myself. But I have three revolvers, and I can sell you two for now."

Sherlock nodded. Whether Julian was sincere or not, his actions had earned his goodwill.

Julian remained calm on the surface, but inside, he was ecstatic. To him, selling two handguns was no big deal. It was just a matter of spending a single Transmigration Coin on a lottery draw. His previous three draws had yielded three weapons, indicating a pretty high drop rate. One Transmigration Coin was only worth 10 Victors when directly Topping Up, which meant he was making a clean profit of 5 Victors per revolver without lifting a finger. That was equivalent to his current monthly salary.

In the early stages of the game, as supernatural powers gradually resurfaced, the scarcity of firearms would become more severe. In a few months, the Kingdom of Bryston would be able to produce similar firearms. He needed to capitalize on this opportunity to fill his empty pockets.